Coming Up Tails
by lollipop-mania
Summary: ShikaTema.  Temari makes a sacrifice to protect her people and Shikamaru won't let her do it alone. He's willing to help her, whatever it takes.  Rated M for adult situations.


See end for notes

* * *

><p><strong>Coming Up Tails<strong>

* * *

><p><em>To keep the lamp alive,<br>With oil we fill the bowl;  
>'Tis water makes the willow thrive,<br>And grace that feeds the soul._

—William Cowper

* * *

><p>It is the first time he has ever been called to her office without a scroll, the first time he had ever been escorted by ANBU guards; they're as silent as their footsteps falling along his loud ones on the floor.<p>

"Shikamaru," she says when he knocks, "come in." No one is waiting outside, and he feels the tendrils of warning in his gut. There is nothing casual about what she wants.

"Hokage-sama," he greets, eyes calculating and on sudden alert as he stands before her. She is meeting his gaze, but with a hesitancy that makes her less daunting than she would probably like. "How can I help you?"

Her hands smooth over the papers before her, long, delicate fingers that could kill him in an instant had she been so inclined, skirt over the paper as she finds her words. "I have a mission for you."

He is too tired for something so big so soon. He just returned from a month's long journey in the Mist the week before. But there is something about her today, and he is annoyed with the temptation and curiosity flirting through his brain.

"But before I say anything," she continues, "I want you to know that this is optional. I am proposing you for this assignment, but if you would rather not partake, I understand."

Now that was surprising. Although, as far as he knew, she had never threatened a mission's completion under death, it was rather implied that if you refused to do something, you were either reassigned or, depending on the circumstance, destined for very early retirement. But to have it specified that the following assignment wasn't required, well, it was enough to make him stand a bit straighter. Of course, this meant a bit, and his shoulders did slag, only less so.

He gives a short nod and she continues.

"You know the daimyo funds almost twenty percent of this village's economy, not to mention full funding for the ninja academy and your benefit plan."

"I am aware of his influence, yes."

"Well," she pauses on her words, not quite unsure –she is much too wise for that— but rather hesitant. "He has asked a favor of me."

Shikamaru knows he won't accept the mission. As soon as he heard it was optional, he had no plan to. And if his friends weren't at risk, he had no reason to. But he waits anyway, his heart beating faster as she continues and he wishes he knew why.

"There is a program currently underway in Iwa to ensure that the next generation of shinobi will have the most optimal skills achievable by birth. They are pairing candidates from their own shinobi pool, often those retired from injury or those who can afford to suspend their work for a few years, and conceiving a child from that pairing. Iwa and Ame are working together in a negotiation that strengthens their alliance treaty and betters the expected greatness of their future leaders."

His mouth went dry. "You're arranging sexual unions to result in skilled offspring?" His voice was not his own.

She misses a beat, but then nods her head in a small jerk.

"_Children _are being born from a science experiment? And you want us to do this? Is that was this is? Hokage-sama, you can't—"

"Nara," she demands, "I know this is not an ideal situation for either of us, but the daimyo has asked that we participate in the same program for a few years, just to see how it goes. I wouldn't ask this of you, but you know the position he is putting me in. If I refuse, we will be unable to sustain ourselves in the luxury we live in now."

He sighs, long and slow and utterly contradictory to the racing in his brain. She is asking him to father a child. A _child_! He is twenty years old; hardly old enough to take care of a girlfriend, much less a baby. He would be a father, and he would be one through something that far under-minded the love and dedication that went into the creation of the child. Sex is not meant to be prompted by a genetics experiment. Children were not supposed to be consequences of that.

"The daimyo is insisting that we work with Suna, and since the Kazekage has been placed in the same position as me, we have decided to cooperate. I am asking that you participate in this first trial run. Your mate has been handpicked, everything you need throughout the program will be provided, and you will be given a stipend at the end of every month until death. Of course, once the mission is complete, you will also garner that pay."

There is silence once more.

"I am sorry," he says at last, and the when she returns his words with a sigh and nod showing that she had assumed as much, he can only rub his neck and wait. It wasn't like he'd been considering the affirmative answer in the least.

And were this any other assignment he was refusing, he would offer replacements, but now the idea makes him sick.

He would never subject a comrade to this. And knowing some of them, they would volunteer for any chance to better the village.

"Right," Tsunade says, "as I expected. But I can't say I am not disappointed, you were a good choice." She straightens the folders in front of her and then waves her hand. "Okay, go away, Nara."

He shrugs as though this were merely a casual conversation.

"And don't you dare tell anyone about this."

He nods and makes his way to the door before turning back, "Hokage-sama?"

"What?" She snaps.

"Why was _I_ a good choice? There are plenty more eligible, equally as fertile men my age, not to mention ones much more likely to take on the burden of serving their Kage."

"You meant ones that aren't as lazy?"

"In a manner of speaking…"

The smirk she had donned quickly fades. "Besides the fact that your family's particular jutsu is very useful to the daimyo, the female that volunteered for the program has a personal connection to you. Since she is not acquainted with many other of Konoha's male shinobi, I figured it might be easier for her."

A personal connection? He only had met a handful of Suna-nins over the years. "You can't mean Sabaku no Temari?"

"I do."

"You mean Gaa— ah, the Kazekage, volunteered his own sister?"

Tsunade taps her chin, "I don't suppose so. He is not an unkind man. But, then again, they are from Suna."

If his breath came in any shorter, they'd have a suffocation on their hands.

"And she agreed?"

"She'll be here in three days to meet her partner."

"You will assign someone to…err, reproduce with her?"

Tsunade glares at him. "I asked that you do it, but since you so kindly refused, I'll find someone else." She stands up, "now get out of here, Shikamaru. You're dampening my afternoon."

"Yes, Hokage-sama."

* * *

><p>He goes straight home after that, mind numb as he replays Tsunade's request and comments in his head.<p>

She had been serious. Serious in asking him to fuck some woman, get her pregnant, and then raise (_would _he even raise?) a child all for the benefit of the village? And it wasn't just some woman either. Tsunade had been asking him to mate with Temari. _Temari_.

They had been friends during their childhoods, late teens even. They still were friends. He hadn't seen her since he was sixteen, but it hardly mattered. He still liked her.

But to fuck her? To _conceive _with her? To conceive with any given woman was hard enough, but for it to be a friend? Isn't that worse?

But as much as the whole idea was bothering him, the one thought that continued to unwillingly nudge its way into his conscious was the knowledge that, since he had refused to do it, someone else would.

She has already volunteered. She will be having a child, regardless of his decision. And although he surely didn't want it to be his, he didn't want it to be anyone else's either.

Not that he doesn't want Temari touched by someone else. Well, he doesn't. But it isn't a jealousy thing. He isn't _jealous_. Far from it.

He isn't in love with her or anything. Hell, he _has _a girlfriend, one who isn't asking him to father her child. But he doesn't want Temari, any of his friends really, to mate with a random volunteer. It is the least he can do for her, really.

But this isn't a little consequence.

What _about _Tomomi? Would she accept the fact that he was going to have sleep with another woman and have her bear his child? Would his girlfriend understand it was for a mission? One that didn't really mean life or death; would she understand?

Though that was hardly a consequence.

He would have a child. A _fucking _kid. His child would be birthed from a conspiracy in his own village, a scientific experiment versus being made from love in a caring and supportive household.

Good god, if his father ever found out he'd considered it, Shikaku would _kill _him. He couldn't even begin to consider telling his mother.

That is— if he agreed.

Which he couldn't. He just couldn't. He couldn't have a child for the bettering of Konoha and the pleasuring of the daimyo.

Even if Temari could, he couldn't.

And why the fuck was she? If anyone, _anyone, _could get out of this, it would be her. But he hardly could being to imagine that Gaara had asked her in the first place. Which made him wonder why she had ever signed up for something like this: she would give her body to some Konoha male, take his seed, and grow a living child in her body for nine months.

Temari is the last person he would have figured for this.

Shikamaru pauses inside his bedroom door. His bed is dusty; the blankets wrinkled and piled on the bottom of the bed from where he kicked them off that morning. Had he said yes, in three days' time, Temari would be in this bed. He would make love –no, he could hardly call it such— he would engage in sexual intercourse on this very mattress in hopes of creating new life. How would it work? Would they both be undressed? Would it even be in this bed? Would it be in the hospital? Hell, was it even sex at all? Did he just jerk into some petri dish and have his child conceived in a laboratory? If he said yes, would he even have to see Temari at all?

With one longer sigh, Shikamaru collapses onto the bed and groans.

He knew today would hardly be casual.

* * *

><p>There never really was another option. As soon as Tsunade had said it was Temari, he'd had no choice. Of course he'd say yes. How could he refuse?<p>

* * *

><p>The next day, he goes over his assignment as Tomomi cooks dinner. She is going on a mission soon, a short one with her team, which works out for him rather well. He is still unsure how to tell her about this whole thing. Their relationship isn't very serious, but she certainly deserves to be aware of his mission.<p>

He should tell her tonight, tell her beforehand. She will be angry if he tells her after the fact, and this is supposedly their last date before she leaves for two weeks.

But he doesn't know how.

How does he tell her any of this?

Apparently, the baby-making portion of this assignment is carried out the old fashioned way. He knows the routine well enough. This goes in that. He knows the feel of an orgasm. He knows what happens; he knows how semen ejaculates, how it looks and how it feels. He knows, has known for a good number of years, that that sticky substance is the foreground for pregnancy. He knows that he will come inside Temari's uterus and the result of that will be a child.

He will have to engage in sex with Temari.

He has never planned to engage in sex. It always just happened. And even if he had been looking forward to it, he had still had some surprise after a date when the woman kissed him.

He had never gone somewhere with the clear intention of having sex.

But he would have to. Every other day until pregnant. Ino has always been worried about getting knocked up if she has unprotected sex once. He has always figured that to be true, once or twice without protection was likely to result in pregnancy, but apparently not. He and Temari would be having sex a good number of times, as had been made clear in the briefing. They would have sex every other day in room 706 in the hospital at six pm.

Twenty-four hours later, a medic will be able to tell if she was in fact pregnant, and depending on the results, they will either continue the next night or she will return to the Sand.

Shikamaru groans low in his throat, shoving the paper describing his assignment back into the folder it'd come from.

"Everything okay?"

He glances up to see Tomomi's smiling face. "Yeah, just tired is all."

He won't raise the child. She or he will be raised in Suna. He has no parental claim. He could easily serve his village without acknowledging the consequences. That is how it is supposed to go. The child will not be his. It will be Temari's. It will belong to Sunagakure.

Tomomi is in the kitchen, back hunched over, as she no doubt tries to discover what went wrong with her food. It is fruitless, he knows, she is just too stubborn to admit that she can't cook.

But she looks damn good doing it. Her short black hair is all messy with the sweat from anxiety and heat from the oven; her cheeks are red and her narrowed eyes bright.

He doesn't really have to tell her. It's the same as accidentally getting a one-night stand pregnant and not having her tell you you have a kid. He knows quite a few older men whom were stationed in foreign lands during the war that have had this happen to them. He really can pretend it is exactly the same.

He doesn't have to tell her at all.

"Fine," Tomomi snaps after having thoroughly examined her food, "get your coat. We're going out."

He slips the folder into his vest. He won't bother looking at it for a few more days.

* * *

><p>He dreams of Temari that night. He dreams of how they used to walk through the streets side by side, bumping hips in the occasional bustle in a way that shot lightning through his veins. He was so naïve then, so young and innocent that the occasional thought of touching other parts of Temari made him blush.<p>

He is much older now; he has touched other women in ways he had never dreamt about with her. He probably won't touch her in those ways. It will probably be as simple as possible, as easy and as professional as they can make it.

She was always the professional kunoichi.

He dreams about training with her when she was eighteen, eating lunch on her breaks as he guided her around Konoha. He dreams about the last time he saw her, out to dinner with their friends. She was laughing and teasing, and he knows she will probably not be like that for a long time after this.

He will probably never remember her like this again. It is sad and it is nostalgic and wrong and he wishes he could only remember her when she was young.

He wakes up too early.

* * *

><p>Shikamaru arrives at the hospital early, which is rare for him. The attendant there to meet him is visibly surprised as he glances at his ID. Apparently, someone had told him that Shikamaru was going to be very late, if he even showed at all.<p>

In normal circumstances, Shikamaru would smirk at this man's stuttering and anxiety, but he is no mood now.

He is led to the top floor of this hospital. He has only been up here once, and that was because Ino had to visit Sakura. Her office is at the end of this hall. He wonders if she knows what will be going on behind door 706. Probably not. Sakura was no good at keeping thoughts to herself, and he was pretty sure she would've had a lot of thoughts about this.

His attendant leads him to the foreboded room. The man is dressed in brown slacks, and Shikamaru suddenly worries that his own clothing choice is wrong. He is wearing his standard uniform. Would civilian clothes have been easier?

"Here you are," the attendant says, opening the door with a key from the chain attached to his hip. "I'll be right outside. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

"Right." He is nervous as fuck and he shoves his hands in his pockets to ward off any twitching fingers.

"Candidate H4," he remembers, it wasn't done by name. He wonders then, had his partner not been Temari, would he even have known her name? "Will arrive shortly."

"Yes," Shikamaru replies as he enters the room. The door shuts behind him.

It is almost six. He has a few minutes at most.

The room was made for this program, it appears. There is a bathroom adjoined, but apart from that, the only furniture is a dresser, a television, and a bed. A large bed. One far larger than his own. He wonders if others have engaged in the same thing he is about to on this bed. He trusts that it has been cleaned, though the thought still irks him.

But it is really the last thing on his mind.

The sheets are white –no surprise there— and the mattress is soft. He opens the dresser to find extra blankets and pillows, as well as drawers filled with every type of lubricant imaginable. There's a number of sex toys as well, some he has seen before and others he can't even begin to recognize. There are a few outfits to match, and a handful of porn tapes, which explains the TV.

"Will we be needing that?"

He hadn't even realized the door was open.

She looks much younger than he'd pictured. She looks the same as she had three years before, in any sense. Perhaps she has lost some weight, or maybe gained some, he isn't sure, but something about her body looks slightly different. Perhaps her chest was larger?

"Shikamaru," she said, shutting the door behind her.

It was something that he'd realized a few days before, but suddenly the feeling came crashing down hard and swift upon his shoulders. Standing not three feet away from him was the mother of his future child.

"Temari." Her name comes from his lips in a single pant.

This was wrong. But all other words were lost to him, and he could only watch her as she swallowed and met his gaze.

"How are you?"

She is as nervous as he is, but he can see the determination ingrained into her features, and he isn't sure if he could keep up with her. But he could at least try.

His shrug is syncopated, almost unseen.

She shifts her weight around a bit, eyes scanning the room before settling on him once more. She licks her lips and he is sure her throat is as dry as his. A few beats pass before she reaches into her obi and pulls out a handful of small bottles. He takes one from her and downs it in moments. The burn is tight and his eyes water, after another bottle, he has found that this is just enough to take the edge off, though barely.

"Shall we," she says, cheeks as red as his. Three empty bottles are in her hands. She was smarter than him. He should have thought of that.

She gestures to the bed and his chest burns. "Right…. Uh, how should I…?" He comes over to her, breath hitting her neck and he can feel her stiffen, breathe, and then attempt to relax. This feels all wrong and sick as his lips touch her neck, his fingers wandering into her obi to tug her closer. But if not him, then someone else. If he weren't touching her, someone else would be.

Her skin is hot beneath him. His breath wets her neck and her inhalations become quick. He can feel her breasts pressing against his front and the beating of her pulse as his lips push harder into her neck. He can feel the arousal, odd and surprising, but certainly needed and wanted, beginning in his gut. It is certainly not uncomfortable. If they try this, if it is done this way, perhaps it will be okay. If they pretend this is normal, then maybe it could be. He could certainly try to keep up the appearance.

It would be easier. And he can feel his own arousal, pretending as such.

So he is surprised when she places a hand on his chest and pushes away. He sees her eyes and every warm feeling in his gut disappears in seconds. If she had only continued to pretend. But she can't do it. Her features are cold and hardened and disgusted.

He feels sickened.

"I can do it," she says, pulling out the ties of her obi and letting it fall to the floor. He stand back to allow her more room, heart beating audibly.

She pulls apart her robe, revealing a white bra and black panties. She could be sexy, he doesn't doubt that. She always had been sexy. But the way she undresses before him is mechanical, as though she were having a checkup. She is stiff and uncomfortable, and what little erection he has left quickly dies out.

She catches him watching and shoots him a look. With a gulp, Shikamaru begins unzipping his vest and shedding it onto the floor. There are no hangers in the dresser.

When they are both only in their underwear, he looks back at her. The alcohol has certainly helped. At least he can speak now. But he wishes she had more of it.

"How do you want—"

"Lie down." The instruction is harsh, but he complies. If she wants to makes this all the more awkward, she can. Before he knows it, her bra and underwear are off and she is straddling him.

He tries not the glance at her body, but with her breasts dangling above his face she is making it hard. But even with her own naked groin pressed against his barely clothed one, he is having trouble getting hard. He wills his cock to just shoot up, and it begins to as she grinds herself against him. But just as he can see the blush and torment on her face as her own body betrays her by growing wet, he feels in the wrong to have his dick so eager. He knows it must be, and he knows that any man with a curvy woman posed on top of him would get aroused, but he feels like a sick, perverted boy nonetheless.

Before he is fully erect, she pushes down his briefs and positions herself over him.

The sex is awkward and not right. She rocks herself against him in a pattern that resembles textbook sex rather than the kind that one's body subconsciously moves towards.

Only breaths come from her, not deep or whimpered ones, no groans or moans, but tame ones, and when she tells him with a voice as even as if they were merely having tea that he should hurry up, it is all he can do to keep his cock hard. He is so close to losing it, and every time he looks at her face he comes a bit closer.

Shikamaru's eyes wander towards the ceiling. The panels of the wood look old and worn, a breeze is threatening the window and light is waning on the floor and across the bed.

There is a man standing right outside and Shikamaru wonders if the attendant can hear the bedsprings.

Besides the throbbing of his racing heart, the squeaking of the springs is all Shikamaru can hear.

He is so far away from coming, he hardly registers the feeling of her heat encasing his cock. It is taking too long and he wishes it would be over. He has never expected it would be like this, sex with Temari… sex in general. It shouldn't be like this. And the quicker this ends, the better.

The muscles folded beneath the skin of his stomach are twisting. They are alive and hard as she rests her hands on his lower abs to increase the depth of her movement. He appreciates the effort, but he is too distracted to assure her.

"Will it help if you touch me?" She asks. His hands grasp her hips, and he knows what she is asking. She doesn't want him to touch her where he wants to. He wants to bury his hand between her legs, rub circles on that tight nub of nerves right above where they meet.

He wants to make her flinch and scream and writhe around him. The thought makes his balls tighten.

But this is only a silent room with an attendant outside and two very tortured people trying to force the impossible.

She isn't asking him to touch _her_.

She doesn't want to make it feel right. She wants him to get it over with. So instead of making it better for the both of them, his hands wander to her breasts like she asked.

They are firm in his hand, heavy and full and so help him if it doesn't wave a line of heat back down to his cock. His hips jump and she nods approval. But nothing more happens and it takes her leaning back and rolling his balls in her palms before anything pushes him off the edge.

He always knew orgasms were great, and he had always figured there was no such thing as a bad one, only less degrees of wonderful. But this is bad, and he feels disgusting once it's over, hissing through clenched teeth.

Temari climbs off him when he finishes, throwing her legs off the bed and grabbing her robe from the floor. She makes her way to the bathroom before turning around and shooting him a glance.

Her hair is perfectly arrayed, her cheeks a little too red, but no one would ever assume she'd just had sex.

If it could even be called that.

He didn't know any definition of sex that would cover what had just happened here.

He hears the sound of running water and is instantly jealous that she has the shower. His cock is covered in her and he wishes he could wash it off.

The pane of the window rattles in the against and wind. It's a good night for rain.

* * *

><p>He knows why she is doing this. He is not stupid.<p>

He has known for days, and when he asked her before they parted ways the day before, she had only confirmed it with far less words.

Gaara had never asked her to do this. Fuck, he'd probably fought it. As in Konoha, there were many kunoichi that were willing to do it, most even already had children with husbands whom happened to be shinobi.

Shikamaru himself was the product of such a birth. It was stupid for the daimyo to be requesting that it be done through a program rather than a common marriage.

But there were some who would accept it, it had happened before. And Temari had done it simply so those who would didn't have to. She'd volunteered herself to protect her village; she'd done it so someone else wouldn't have to.

He'd done it for the same reasons, though his were slightly skewed. He'd done it so she wouldn't have to do it with someone else. He was protecting her, because if he didn't, no one would.

There is a note waiting on his doorstep the next day. The test is negative.

He crumples the paper and throws it into the street.

* * *

><p>He is late today, and the attendant is flustered once more. Shikamaru wonders if he could hear them have sex two days before. He wonders what this man knows of the mission and what he thinks about it.<p>

Temari is wearing her robe again, but her obi is already gone and she is not wearing underwear. She did not bring along any alcohol this time.

He wishes she had.

"Evening," he says, upset his voice betrayed his nerves.

"Evening."

He wonders if she feels like a common whore, saying one or two words before spreading her legs. He wonders if she is, in some sense.

They don't say anything more as she parts her clothing, but keeps it on, and lies out on the mattress.

* * *

><p>He watches her body as she moves above him. Her thighs have a few scars, but good medic-nins probably healed most of her lacerations. He knows the scars on his skin are far and few between simply because of Ino's growing precision in her field.<p>

He owes that girl a lot.

She saw him the other day walking down the street. She had asked him to lunch and when he refused, yelled for a bit before bringing up Temari. Of course she'd seen the girl around town, it was silly of him to assume that Temari was holing up in a hotel or something.

But he isn't sure how to react when Ino mentions her.

If only Ino knew where they were now.

"Are you okay?" she asks. She's always gentle with him, but the hesitation in her touch reminds him that this isn't real. This isn't Temari. And he has no doubt that if this arrangement was at all natural, she'd be far from gentle.

The thought carries him away for a moment, and his hips start matching hers. He feels the change in her as she lets him take over.

He's always gone slowly, setting the pace he is most comfortable with. One that doesn't allow for the slapping of skin and the bouncing of bodies. He likes slow, hard rocking of hips. If she wanted, he would move differently. He is adaptable, but she hasn't shown any inclination either way. He briefly wonders what positions and rhythms she likes.

But the thought of her in bed with him, _really _in bed, is disturbing after he comes to his senses. But this newfound rhythm is working and he can feel his balls begin to tighten. He switches to Tomomi; to the last time they had great sex.

They were playing shogi; she had pushed aside the board and straddled his hips, quite like Temari was doing now. Only Tomomi had kissed him, she had teased his lips with hers, his jaw with her tongue. Temari didn't tease. But at least she acknowledged that he was also suffering through this, which was good enough for now.

When he finishes and she pulls off him to take the shower first, he rubs his eyes. If he weren't feeling like such shit, he would probably enjoy seeing her leggy form enter the bathroom.

"Hey Temari," he calls –using the honorific feels wrong these days— "can I ask you something?"

She pokes her head out the door. She hates when he talks afterwards, and he knows it, but it is the only time he has an excuse to. They have to talk, at some point. They are having a child together. But it isn't like he can show up to her hotel room.

"How long does it usually take for someone to get pregnant?"

He can see her stiffen at the word, which is something she surely shouldn't be doing.

"We both took the test, Shikamaru," she counters, going back into the bathroom. "We're both very fertile, so it shouldn't be long."

It'd been over a week already.

They'd had sex five times. And everyday, nothing. Sakura had gotten pregnant the first time she had sex (or so Ino said, neither Sakura nor Kakashi were keen on talking about such matters) and Ino herself had lectured him for hours when he started having sex. Apparently, she didn't find the custom sexual-education he'd had from their old sensei to be adequate enough.

And yet, Temari's egg remained unfertilized, or whatever the fuck was supposed to happen.

"Right," he says, sitting up and tugging his briefs back into place.

Temari sighs loud enough for him to hear. She turns on the shower and then lets the water run as she comes back into the room. She has a towel wrapped around her body, but it has been getting dark early as they fall deeper into winter and neither had thought to turn on the light. She is only a silhouette as she joins him on the edge of the bed.

She thinks it over before placing a hand on his bicep. He flinches at the touch and she moves away.

"It'll be over soon."

He grunts. "Don't console me, Temari. If either of us need pity, it's you."

She runs a hand through her loose hair, "mm. I had a choice, Shikamaru." She curls her fingers over her knee. "I chose this."

Shikamaru swallows, not wanting to argue, though he knows a fight is really what he needs. "I did too."

She bites her lip. He wonders why she can't stop fidgeting. "I know." She says before standing up again and going to her shower, but she stops before the door. "You can come with me tomorrow, to the medic, I mean."

He was left alone in a shabby room wondering how the most intimate moment with the mother of his future child had occurred with hardly any words passed between them.

* * *

><p>She comes to his door at noon as previously arranged. She looks very different than in she does in room 706. Her eyes are no less foreboding and she doesn't seem at all happier, but she is certainly different.<p>

Temari is wearing civilian clothing, a normal shirt and pants. He can almost forget what she is doing at his door and simply pretend a pretty girl has come to visit for his company.

But he can't.

They head off towards the hospital where, in a procedure that takes no more than five minutes, a nurse (apparently one specialized in this area of expertise) places her hands on Temari's stomach, emits some pink (how maternal) colored chakra, and then confirms whether or not any of his sperm took.

The nurse is nice, and she smiles at both Shikamaru and Temari, neither of which return the gesture. Her hands explore Temari's stomach, and Shikamaru's guts twist when he acknowledges that this woman had probably touched Temari more than he has. And he's the one who's supposed to get her pregnant.

The woman is old, and as she pulled away from Temari with an expression far sadder than her previous smile, it is almost believable that she felt the same way Shikamaru and Temari were.

She had probably been through the experience of trying to get pregnant.

The only thing was, as much as Shikamaru wanted this to end, he didn't want Temari to get pregnant. He wanted to stop sleeping with her, that was a given, but he almost wished that something else would happen, some sort of miracle.

Perhaps Gaara would intervene. Or Tsunade.

But what they were asking wasn't as surprising as he had initially thought. Campaigns like this were run all the time. This one was only done when threatened by their own bosses.

It was useless to fight the daimyo when members of the village were volunteering anyway.

He had hated Tsunade for a few days after she had proposed the mission to him, but she had offered him the assignment as a question rather than a request, and eventually she would have found someone to accept, and she wouldn't have to fight the daimyo.

He didn't like it, but it made sense. Twenty percent of the village's funds came from him. Shikamaru couldn't argue with that.

"I'll be back again," Temari is saying to the woman, signing a form.

The nurse only gives a solemn look, "good luck."

As they exit the building, Temari turns right and begins walking to the restaurant district. "Are you hungry?"

Shikamaru pauses, unsure of what she's implying even though the words are clear enough. "No."

She looks back at him. "Okay." He has a feeling she didn't really want him to join her anyway. This is awkward. It has been awkward, this whole afternoon. He thinks she should visit the medic on her own now on.

He expects her to turn back and continue walking away, but she just stands there, staring at him. He hasn't seen her face, _really seen it_, in years. Under any other circumstances, he is sure he would've been infatuated.

"I'll see you later, Temari." He says at last. Something dark clouds in her eyes, but her small smile betrays none of it as she turns to seek lunch.

He wonders if she is relieved that the test was negative.

* * *

><p>Afterwards, it is easy to forget that they are so removed.<p>

It is easy forget when he straightens his clothes and fixes his hair, when he walks out and nods to the attendant before descending down the stairwell, and when goes home still smelling of a woman he hardly touches.

He is well aware of the difference between themselves and lovers. But sometimes his cock burns for her, he ignores it, but it yearns for something it has never had, even when they pretend.

Sometimes he wants her.

And it is stupid, stupid to want her even more now when he sees all the ways he can have her and knows all the ways he can't.

But even with all that is happening, sometimes he wants her.

* * *

><p>"So you've heard?"<p>

Shikaku nods, dark eyes like daggers at his son. "I am the jonin-leader and _your _father, it is only right… it _will_ be my grandchild."

Shikamaru sighs, leaning back further in his chair. He should have suspected as much.

"I knew when Tsunade asked me to help find a loophole in the daimyo's request, and I knew when word came that it no longer mattered as Suna had agreed and already found a volunteer. What I didn't know was that my son was chosen as her partner."

"I volunteered, dad."

Shikaku took a deep breath, huge shoulders looking delicate as he slowly let it out. "Because she's your friend?"

"What choice did I have?"

A beat passes, but Shikaku understood the situation well enough. "It is not my job to tell your mother."

"I have yet to tell Tomomi."

There is silence for a few minutes before his father downs his tea. "Are you really okay with this, Shikamaru? I realize that this is for the Kazekage's sister, and the child will only be yours by blood, not by birth or childhood, but are you ready to have it?"

He didn't have to think about it. "No."

"You can always pull out, you know. I assume she's not pregnant yet, you can ask for a replacement. I know you think you're helping her, but it might be easier with a stranger."

"There's no point now though, is there?"

Shikaku stands up, taking the empty cups from the table. "Another man would treat this as a mission, as it is supposed to be treated. You're too personally involved."

"Personally involved? Because I know her? Dad, I sleep with her every other night, how can I _not_ know her?"

"Another man wouldn't like her."

"I don't _like _her."

Shikaku sighs, turning away and heading into the kitchen of his home. "Tell your mother soon. You don't want to find out what will happen if she learns about this from someone else…. But don't worry, she'll probably kill you anyway."

* * *

><p>His father is right.<p>

About all of it, really.

He can't deny that the sex is awful, terrible in any sense. It is wrong and sick and dreadfully inhuman. He knows how much effort it takes to come, how difficult it is to see her face as he moves above her when she looks so immune, so indifferent. But he also knows how tight she feels, whether he lets the thought get to him or not.

He knows how warm she is inside, how encasing it feels to be sheathed inside her body. How round her rear is as he holds onto it to push himself in, or her strong legs as he adjusts one to alter the angle.

As a man he ignores these things, but as far as his cock went, it seems more eager to be inside her every night.

She isn't responding more, that isn't it.

He comes easier, but that has more to do with that fact that he has been taking her from behind more recently, and that allows for him to picture someone else.

Some nights, it takes everything for him not to picture Temari.

But when he is behind her, he can move into her as though she were moving with him. He can imagine her face isn't passive and that her eyes aren't so hard. He can imagine her lips are open and she is moaning into her pillow. He always comes quickly when this happens, so quickly and harder than he had at first, that the sex doesn't feel as cheap or as wrong as it had those first two weeks.

But tonight, after having spoken to his father and being made well aware of his connection to Temari, he is having trouble.

He pushes into her harder, digging his fingers into her hips. He is conscientious when he pulls her hips back to meet his ever so slightly. He hasn't moved her an inch, but the little bit of added friction jostles fire into his groin.

Shikamaru can tell that she felt it too, and for once, he sees her react. It is a clenching of her fingers around the sheets, but it is enough. He thrusts into her again, this time using his hands to pull her hips back as much as before.

It is the slightest change but it makes all the difference.

He can't help himself now.

They started late today and have lasted longer than usual. A single light is on in the building across the way, and he can see her body in the faded light, her skin looks pale blue and gold, a combination of a lamp and the moon.

He lets out a throaty moan.

It is the first noise, the first sexual one, that has been made in the weeks they've been together.

A hand begins wandering from her hip to span across her back, fingers spread wide as he pumps into her a little quicker now. His hand moves up to settle between her shoulder blades, lightly pushing her down.

She collapses into the mattress.

He can feel her clench around him, her walls locking onto his cock tightly. The moan is guttural this time, and it is accompanied by her name. He wants to control himself, he wants to so badly, but he can't—

The hand on her back moves in a flash, slipping below her hip to the small protrusion of flesh between her legs. He presses down hard and she jerks around him, hips fighting against his as she tries to pull away.

He can hear her saying his name, yelling at him. She is fighting him and he can feel it, but her pleas are lost on his ears. He is using one hand to control her hips and keep himself inside her, the other to touch her.

She is still fighting, but her will has lessened, and now her jerks are more of deep grinds that are making his head swim.

She is moving with him now, meeting his thrusts over and over and her muscles flutter around him. His body is on fire.

Temari is panting, her back arching, and seeing, no, _feeling_, her finally react to him is ruthless enough, but when she finally clamps down on him, her hands clawing at the sheets, this is what finally sends him over the edge.

The orgasm is nothing like it was last time, or the time before that, or any time they have been together. He is thrown off the cliff and he can't hear or think, nor does he have any willpower to move. He can only standby as his body convulses and he spills into her again and again, and for the first time, his mess drips down her legs.

It takes only a few seconds before it comes racing back to him. Who they are, what they're doing, what just happened.

What he did wrong.

He had collapsed atop of her when he was done riding out the waves, and now he hastily removes himself from her heat and jumps off the bed as though it were on fire.

She is naked, body spent, and breaths heavy. He tries to regain his balance.

He feels exhausted, and if the circumstances were any different, he would probably be an inch away from sleep.

But he isn't, and they aren't.

He hopes the attendant didn't hear them.

He stumbles to where his underwear was discarded earlier, slipping his legs into each end and pulling them to his hips with haste.

He has just let this get personal.

Her voice comes first. "Shikamaru."

He is still panting.

"Why?" Her word is strained and he has a sickening feeling she is crying. She was the one who'd been so strong through all of this and now she was crying.

"Please, don't cry." He urges. He doesn't know how to deal with this. His emotions are running high enough as it is.

"Leave," she snaps, pushing herself up and facing away from him. "Get out."

He has no other will but to comply.

* * *

><p>Half his bed is occupied when he comes home.<p>

In some miracle, he manages not to groan in frustration as he pulls off his shoes and collapses beside Tomomi. She never comes to his bed so soon after a mission unless she is horny, but he respects her more when she acknowledges his exhaustion and after a quick kiss, settles to just sleep against him.

He shucks his shirt to the floor and moves to lean back against his own, much harder mattress.

As Tomomi scratches lightly against his chest, head on his shoulder, he is struck with the knowledge that the skin underneath his fingernails belongs to another woman.

And he is both pleased and sickened to know that she is sporting scratches down her back.

* * *

><p>"One more, Sir?"<p>

Shikamaru slips another two bills onto the table as he accepts his glass. The sake is strong, as strong as whatever it is she gave him that first night.

And the rush through his throat is good, the instant heating of his gut welcome and celebrated.

It is here he can forget it all. Forget what happened the previous night, forget what may happen tomorrow, and the nights after that, forget how he must explain to his girlfriend his absence every other evening, find a way to convince his friends there is no reason he is avoiding Temari, and forget that the ending result of all of this will be a living, breathing child.

His child.

The boy (girl?) would have half his genes, half his blood. He might have his hair, or Yoshino's eyes? Would the child have his jutsu?

Would his child grow up practicing a jutsu from his father? Would he hear stories of his father, the Shadow Master Shikamaru? Would he read the bingo book and answer questions about his own dad?

Would Temari marry someone else? Would he grow up knowing some taller, stronger, surely more handsome man was his parent?

Would everyone think that this supposed perfect man had been the one to slide his cock into Temari, the one to milk her into orgasm, the one to sire her child?

Without thinking he gulps down the last few inches of his sake. His head is swimming.

She had only come once, and it was completely accidental on either end.

Perhaps they needed a break. They could resume this in another week or so.

But, he knew, the sooner she was pregnant, she sooner it was over. Taking a break was only prolonging the inevitable. And if he pulled out of the mission now, what was the point? Their friendship was already salvaged beyond repair. It wouldn't do any good if he didn't see it out till the end.

He puts down more money and the man brings him one more glass. The room is starting to spin now and he supposes he shouldn't drink this last one.

He just wants this to be over— his life was much simpler a month ago. Missions caused stress, yes. But not like this.

Shikamaru briefly wonders how much he's getting paid. It better be one fucking good amount. Whatever it is, it's surely far too little.

He can't help it when his hands raise the glass and his lips open wide enough for a decent amount of sake to spill down his throat.

As clearly as if he were sober, he can remember Temari's body last night. He remembers how she withered and jerked and what it felt like to have come for him. He wishes he could've seen her face when he finally got her there. After two weeks of painstakingly awkward intercourse, they had both given into pleasure.

If she only knew how good he could make it for her.

Last night had been nothing.

He could _make _her moan, he could _force _noise from her throat. He knows how to make it just right for the both of them, if only she'd let him.

Shikamaru finishes his glass.

* * *

><p>"You have a note," Choji comments, reaching onto the door the pull the tacked letter from the wood. "A bound one."<p>

Shikamaru groans, his head is pounding and he can't think straight. The hangover will be killer come morning.

"Give it to me."

Choji eyes the note, but then hands it over. Shikamaru pricks his fingers on his teeth before dropping the blood onto the paper. It unseals itself immediately. Choji leans closer.

"'Are you busy tomorrow night?'... Is this how Tomomi asks you out?"

Shikamaru groans and shakes his head. "It's Temari— she's…. we have plans." He takes a step closer to the door. "_Fuck_."

"What is it?"

"Not again," Shikamaru leans against the wood, banging his head over and over in time with the throbs. "I thought it would work this time."

"What would… are you okay?"

Shikamaru shakes his head, falling to the floor of his porch.

He can't do this. He can't. He _can't_. He can't have his child be some genetic experiment performed to please his daimyo. And he can't have his child born out of unnatural, uncomfortable sex. Children were born out of love, and if he had to mate with Temari, so be it, but it would be done right.

He wouldn't come home and see the same note on his door again, as it was every other day.

"Where are you going?" Choji demands, left dumbfounded on the porch as Shikamaru heads off to the gates of the Nara estate.

"I have business to take care of."

"Business? You're drunk, Shikamaru."

But the man is already out of earshot; headed down the street to a place he hasn't been in years.

"He never was a fun drunk," a voice says as Choji steps back onto the ground.

Shikaku shifts the groceries he is holding to his other hand, looking back towards his own house only a few over. "But I suppose this type of business is better suited with a little drink."

"What do you mean?"

Shikaku sighs, "nothing. Now come home with me, Yoshino saw you pass and told me to come find you before I go inside. She's cooking duck for dinner. Are you hungry?"

* * *

><p>The banging on her door is probably much too loud for this sort of hotel as no more than three guests stick their heads out before she finally opens her door. She is staying in the same place she used to, back when they were proctoring the Chunin Exams.<p>

He is surprised. She was so different then, he saw her as such a different person, that it was confusing to imagine her in the same place. He wonders if this mission hadn't been assigned to them, if they had reunited strictly as friends, would he still see her in the same light he had at fifteen?

"Oh," she says when she opens the door. "It's you."

She isn't glad to see him, that is obvious enough, even in his state, but for some reason, she steps aside and lets him in. In all reality, she can probably smell the alcohol on him and is aware that he will cause a scene if she doesn't grant him access to her suite.

"Can I help you?" She asks, crossing her arms over her chest. She is wearing pajamas, and he can't help but find them erroneously sexy.

"We need to talk about what happened." He manages, though his words are paced. He is not as intoxicated as he appears, and while his movements are far from controlled, they are neither slow nor deficient.

"Now? Couldn't this wait until you were, you know, perhaps more aware?"

"No." He pulls off his vest and slings it over a chair by the door. They are still standing in the entryway. "We need to talk about this baby."

"Shikamaru," her voice is a warning, her patience is thinning but he is taking no heed.

"We're doing this wrong." He continues, unabashed. He is stepping closer. "This, you and I. You're not pregnant because we're doing this wrong."

"Shikamaru," she repeats, tone exasperated, "you know how these things work."

"Yes," he pulls the tie from his hair and rubs his fingers into his scalp. "And we're not doing it right."

She is about to reply, but then thinks better of it. Her hands move to her hips.

"What we have isn't sex, Temari. You have no idea how it could be, how _good _I could make you feel." Her cheeks turn red and her fists clench. He is toying with her anger and he is aware enough to know he doesn't have long before she either kicks, or knocks, him out. "_That _is what will get you pregnant, not this. Not us pretending."

His breathing is heavy and she is staring at him with an unreadable expression.

"People get pregnant all the time from doing less than what we do, Shikamaru," she counters at last. "We're doing fine."

"No we're not."

She sighs and rolls her eyes, clearly done with the conversation. She gestures towards a small kitchen, "can I offer you some tea or— "

His hands are on her hips, his body pressed to hers as close as they were that first night. His lips are on her neck, barely as he whispers over and over. "Temari, _please_."

A beat passes.

And then her hands are in his hair and her lips are so tight against his it is a miracle either of them can get enough breath in.

It takes a moment, but then he realizes that the taste on her lips is whiskey.

That is why this is happening.

He doesn't care.

Her lips are warm and firm and it is miraculous that he went all this time without feeling them. Surely, every man deserved to kiss these lips at least once. His life suddenly feels quite under-lived.

She is moving her mouth, nipping his lip between hers and he is just lost.

It is too hot. Her mouth and her skin, soft and fiery beneath his hands, against him. Oxygen doesn't run to his head and he is so dizzy he can't register that what is going on is wrong in every which way.

But she is kissing him and none of it matters.

She fits against his body just as he'd thought, curving herself into every inch of empty space, meeting every need he can't voice, but somewhere deep in his mind he is sure she is liking it too.

He opens his mouth and she gasps. Her tongue is light, hot and flaring and they are stumbling further into the suite. She has her fingers around his neck now, scratching at the base of his hairline.

Shikamaru doesn't know where to touch her; he doesn't know where she wants him. And it is awkward and new and _brilliant_. It is nothing like room 706, nothing wrong or sick, and he can't even concentrate enough to remember anything other than this.

"Condom?" He hears her ask.

It takes a gross amount of pure will to move his lips from hers. "Do we need one?"

Her breath is so heavy and her heart is thumping against his chest so loudly. He opens his eyes to see her attempt to concentrate. As if she suddenly remembers who they are and why she is here in the first place, she nods. "Right." And then they are kissing again and she is pushing him to a bedroom.

He feels his throat choke and he sees she is trying to force her hands into his turtleneck and it just isn't working. He moves away by some grace of god and pulls his shirt off so fast he tears the sleeve. His hands are furious on his buckle next and when he is touching her again, there is skin against skin and his chest is straining against her.

"Shikamaru," she groans as his lips touch her jaw, hands roaming and grabbing at her body without pause.

His arousal is throbbing against his zipper.

"I've wanted this," he hears himself say, "for— this for years." He doesn't know where the words came from and he doesn't care.

He just wants her.

"We shouldn't," she is saying. But her pants are falling lower the more he pushes his own hands down her hips and over her rear and the he is cupping her and her hesitance is gone and her legs collapse and they are then only a tangle of limbs on a bed.

She is touching him everywhere and before he knows it his pants are gone and she is stroking him.

"We shouldn't." She tries again.

But then he is pushing into her there, just _there _and nothing else matters. She is Temari and he is Shikamaru and they are on fire.

* * *

><p>He wakes up too early.<p>

His head is pounding and he is face feels swollen. He can see her above him, lips red as he grogs into wake. There is a light on in the room and pain splinters through his head. The hangover is killer, but she is also wearing a mans nightshirt, and he can only focus on one thing at a time.

She is sitting beside him, legs crossed and flaxen hair pooling over her shoulders, messy and knotted. If he could, he would lie here and make love to her for the rest of the day, but the clock beside the bed reads four am and it is time for him to leave.

She says as much, "you should probably leave before it gets light."

He nods and sits up slowly, clenching his fists into the blankets before relaxing and stretching out his fingers. "We probably shouldn't do this again, not while…" it goes against everything he wants to say –to do— but it is what he needs to say.

"Not while we are on this mission? Or not while you have a girlfriend?"

He can't help the smirk. "That does complicate things."

But she only shrugs. "No more so than they already are."

He pushes himself out of bed. His shirt is by the door, but the rest is all piled on the bottom of the bed. He blushes when he sees it, and hopes she doesn't see the stain of redness on his face when he slips everything back on.

"Shikamaru," she says as he buckles his slacks. He glances over and she pauses, eyes falling to her curled up legs as she hesitates. "I don't think I'd mind… you know, if it worked this time."

He doesn't know what to say, how to react. But she is right. If they had conceived a child last night, he wouldn't mind.

He has put on his shirt now, and as she sits there brushing the pads of her fingers along her calf absently, he slips his hair back into place and untwists his sleeves, wondering all the while how she can be so calm about all of this.

And wondering why on earth he isn't.

"Take the back stairwell," she tells him a few moments later. He nods. They never know who is watching.

"I'll see you tonight," he says lightly. Her shoulders jostle as if she is holding in a laugh, but her face is as passive as ever. He remembers exactly how her body was burning against his only a few hours before, but now the memory is withering and open and he feels removed from her once more.

The morning is waiting for him when he exits her building.

* * *

><p>"How's it going?" Shikamaru asks.<p>

The attendant shrugs. "Same old."

"Do you do anything besides stand outside a room while I have sex?"

"It's better than your job."

Shikamaru snorts, "I suppose that's true."

They continue up the rest of the way in silence. Room 706 looks particularly scary today. He'd rather stay in the hall.

"Do you do this for many people?"

"If you're asking me to discuss confidential inform—"

"No," Shikamaru clarifies, "I'm just wondering if perhaps you've done this before, worked, you know, with other couples?"

The man takes a deep breath and nods. "Yes."

He wonders how many other people have been in their position. He'd thought that he and Temari were the first, for Konoha and Suna at least. "Does it always go this way?"

"You mean in length? Some can take one or two visits, others take weeks."

"What about afterwards?"

"I don't work with that," the attendant says, "but the child is raised to be a shinobi, I know that much."

"Yeah," Shikamaru responds. He knew that much too.

The attendant unlocks the door, "she's waiting for you."

* * *

><p>"Well?" She says, arms crossed in front of her as she paces before him. "Say something."<p>

"What do you want me to say?" He is at a loss.

"Anything!" She snaps, eyes dark with a warning. "Just say _something_."

But what is there to say?

He crumples the paper in his hand, careful enough to not damage it, but certainly with the intent to inflict harm.

"I don't think I'm ready for this."

She'd gone to Sakura this afternoon, manipulating the girl's friendship with Temari's youngest brother to her will. She didn't have a doctor's appointment until the next day, so Sakura had helped her out.

"You knew perfectly well what we were doing, you knew it had to result in this."

He'd known he was going to be a father. He'd known they were going to have a child. It wasn't a surprise.

But to know that right now his sperm had created a child, to know that right at this very instant his son or daughter was growing— "if it were anyone else's I would tell you to get rid of it."

How he wishes she would.

She clenches her fists, "but it's yours."

He takes a deep breath. He'd been waiting for this moment for almost a month and now he has no idea how to proceed.

She sighs and moves to sit beside him. "Why did you sign up for this?"

"For the same reasons you did."

"No," her hands run down her legs and come achingly close to this knee. "I did it because it was my duty. I am a master of the wind, a royal sister to the Kazekage and the daughter of two past ones. I was born into protecting Sunagakure, and as long as that is still my duty, I will continue to serve the village at its will. Gaara gave his life a while ago when the Akatsuki attacked. He put himself between the village and those who would do it harm. Even if I'm only giving up a few years of my life, and my sacrifice is incomparable to his, it is the least I can do to serve my people. You are just from a middle-class clan with a fair amount of missions under your belt and a respected name in the bingo book, please tell me how we are the same?"

"You've certainly thought this out, haven't you?"

"I don't make rash decisions."

"Right." He rubs his eyes and looks out at the fading light from the window. "I mean, you did this to protect your people, I did this to protect you. You were my friend. How could I refuse when the end result would only be you pregnant with a stranger's kid?"

He doesn't see her reaction to this, and he is certainly trying not to look, but the words hit hard enough. "_Bastard_."

He'd figured as much.

Temari swallows. "I don't need your protection. You're just making things harder."

"So my father says."

"Smart man." She stands up again, unable to sit still. "Do you always do things like this, for friends?"

He was not a stupid man, and after last night, it was easy for him to discern that it was more than the need to protect an old friend and ally; he'd wanted to protect the one he _loved_. But it hardly mattered.

"What do we do now?" He asks, ignoring her question.

"We've completed our mission."

"Are you going home?"

"I suppose so."

He looks back at her. "We could get married."

She stops pacing.

"It's probably what they want."

"It's not like that, Shikamaru. You don't have to feel obligated, you're not supposed to." She is clearly shocked.

He could argue, but she'd probably shoot him down. He wouldn't mind marrying her, he had become rather keen on the idea in the last few seconds since posed, but he isn't going to stand by it.

They descend into silence and he doesn't really mind this time.

He has known this was coming, he knew the test would eventually be positive and Temari would head back to the Sand. He knew all of this, but that doesn't mean he likes it.

Eventually she sits beside him once more, fingers racing along his leg as they both sort some things out.

"Stay," he says after a good ten minutes, "stay with me, tonight."

"We shouldn't be doing this now."

"How long?"

"Years, maybe."

"Temari," he takes a breath, "I know what I signed up for, but it's my child too."

She nods softly, nails still scratching at his knee. "I know."

The window is covering the both of them in the last traces of daylight as they sit upon the worn, ugly bed. He can feel her breathing, heavy and slow, so different than it had been not twenty-four hours before. He isn't sure which way he prefers it.

He can feel the faint counterpoint rhythm of her heartbeat too, loud and betraying of her calm demeanor. It's nothing at all, but it's hers and it's his and and it's enough, enough for tomorrow at least.

* * *

><p><strong>1020/12: **

There is a DVD-like Commentary on this story, which gives a full layout of the ending and is basically a dissection of this piece and has some new scenes as well as some re-written scenes and some more explanation to a lot of what is going on (but it's a lot less professional than I just made it sound.)

In one of my collections of stories, _To Start A Fire, volume no.1_, chapter 4: _Dependence _is the sequel to this story.

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you to my beta (ALWAYS!) for editing and to Appy-appy on tumblr for reading each version and offering her opinionscorrections/encouragement.**

**Thanks to both shinigamiii, leadercowonew, aluxuryishardtofind, and that anon for giving me character names and descriptions. And thanks in general to all of you on FF and tumblr for your support, reviews, and just reading in general.**

Review!

I am trying different styles of writing and want to see how you guys like it, so if you review, that'd be fantastic!

**Thank you!**


End file.
